


Chasing Out The Chill

by Jyou_no_Sonoko



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Hot Springs & Onsen, a little downtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyou_no_Sonoko/pseuds/Jyou_no_Sonoko
Summary: After the fall of the Church of Night and its ceasing to worship Lucifer, Zelda in her new role as self-appointed High Priestess has to transition them to the Church of Lilith. And while she believes in her Patron, it is a difficult adjustment to make. Lilith grows concerned for her and plans a little getaway.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77
Collections: Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge





	Chasing Out The Chill

**Author's Note:**

> The piece takes place after The Mephisto Waltz, before the unravelling that was Caos3. The prompt from the Madam Spellman challenge was 'Winter'. Takaosanguchi's onsen is a real place and you should go there.
> 
> Should you wish to hear an audio version of the text (and can make do with the dubious quality of my impersonations), you may find it [here](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1vcqDSBKmhBP1-5XlSf-VEb9ykYjuNJr8).

The wretched state of the coven weighed on Zelda such that she barely slept unmedicated. At a loss since not only their High Priest, but also their Dark Lord himself had betrayed them (to the tune of mass poisoning and the threat of Hell on Earth, respectively), the flock huddled around their familiar rituals, turning their faces to the apparent certainty of the Spellmans, to Zelda most of all. 

And for all that she was attempting to fill their void by re-dubbing them the Church of Lilith, she was having a hard time embracing the idea to the full depths of her heart. It was not so much about trust — a powerful witch, the first of her kind, a woman who had raged against subservience her entire life, these were enough reason to respect the Dark Mother — but reorganising one's thought process, getting out of the habit of saying “Praise Satan!” in heated moments, that was the real challenge. As the self-appointed High Priestess, the coven looked to her to set the example, and an iron will kept her from slipping up when it most mattered. But the pressure was taking its toll.

Longevity notwithstanding, she was counting new lines on her face, Hilda querying her well-being with exasperating frequency. And so she had begun to seclude herself as soon as she arrived home, in her private study. She would curtly thank whomever brought up her dinner, then pore over her tomes until bed.

And it was in such a focussed, frowning pose of erudition that she was found, when the purring voice sounded in the doorway. “I appreciate your dedication to the office, Zelda Spellman, but perhaps a less stringent approach would produce more... tangible results?”

Zelda's face set in an expression of surprise and embarrassment. “Dark Mistress, forgive me, I was not prepared for a meeting with you.”

Lilith waved off her concern. “There's no need to blow the trumpets whenever I drop by. After all, I'm not here on any sort of official, royal errand.”

“But you honour my home with your presence.”

“I do, don't I?” she proceeded towards Zelda, ran a red-nailed hand over the teak desk. “Funny, it wasn't so long ago that you were throwing up wards against me.”

“I am certain I have made clear my regret at our unknowing disrespect during that turbulent time. It did not help matters that Sabrina was immediately on the offensive, colouring our understanding of the situation.”

“Yes, that really is her habitual mode, isn't it?” Her voice lowered an octave: “Sweet girl, but her sense of tact could benefit from a little more honing.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Zelda dropped her gaze from Lilith's bewitching countenance, took in her outfit. “You've left your infernal gowns at home, I see.”

Lilith smiled crimson lips, looked down at her black suede coat and the hellfire-blue dress that brought out the similar blues of her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. “So I have. Dragging a golden train behind me would be very awkward, given the night I have planned.”

“And what might that be, may I ask?” Lilith always did enjoy feigning mysteries and Zelda was willing to play along.  


“You may. I'll be taking a foreign excursion. And you, High Priestess of my Church, are coming with me.”

Zelda glanced at the grandfather clock. “At ten? On a week night? Not that I question your wisdom, but—”

“You've been feeling the cold in your bones, haven't you?”

The question caught Zelda by surprise, prodded her in her insecurities. “I... I have. But it's only natural, we are firmly in the bite of Winter.”

“The Winter runs more than skin deep. Don't forget, I know you, Zelda Spellman.” Then her tone softened, “I can see you've been suffering.”

Zelda scoffed. “Life is suffering, my Lady. It does not bother me.”

Somehow, Lilith was now standing behind her, and had slender hands on Zelda's shoulders. “That may have been true under my predecessor's rule, but I see no reason why women should toil under the yolk of their own lofty expectations, until there's barely a spirit left within them.” Then she was handing Zelda a coat, which may have been in her closet or may have not been, it was impossible to tell.

Zelda barely had the coat over both arms, when Lilith spirited them away.

Taking in her bright new surroundings, cold nipping at her hands and face, she saw a forested mountain to their left, and an old wooden train station to their right. She searched for some identifying text and found it, translating fluently from the foreign characters: “Takao-San-Guchi Station. The mouth of Mount Takao.” She turned to Lilith, who was standing with folded arms, one hip pitched sharply, very much enjoying Zelda's examination. 

“Why did you bring us here? It's every bit as cold as Greendale, and more so, the wind is picking up.”

Lilith said nothing, only continued to smile and cocked her head at a symbol on a nearby pillar, which was underscored by an arrow pointing to the left of the station.「ゆ」it read. 

Zelda frowned, trying to remember her Japanese shorthand. “Yu... that's a marker for onsen, isn't it?”

Smiling with approval, Lilith gestured off in the direction of the arrow, where low lights warmly illuminated bamboo arrangements, down a wooden hallway. “Let's get those bones warmed, shall we?”

A medley of emotions hit Zelda's heart: wariness, at the sudden cultural differences forthcoming, nervousness, given Lilith's known unpredictability, and finally, most notably, excitement. The traditional hot-springs were split along lines of binary gender, and within those separate areas, modesty was not a concern – unusual for mortals, but comfortable for witches. Moreover, any manner of clothing or even a towel larger than a face cloth, was forbidden in the wet areas.

There was a certain spiritual poetry to it: a High Priestess bathing, perhaps anointing, with the Queen of Hell. Sitting in the ancient, purifying pools, it could only serve to strengthen the bond between them.

Walking through automatic doors into a wooden reception area, they stopped at the edge of a step, and Lilith immediately removed her heels, slipped her feet into one of a number of slippers lining the sunken area. Zelda paid close attention to her movements, never having been to an onsen before, despite being what mortals would call extremely well-travelled. They placed their shoes in small lockers, took out the keys, then headed to the front desk. Lilith had a brief conversation with the woman on duty, and although no money was passed, it seemed the woman believed that she had been paid for their entry and amenities, given that Zelda was handed a neatly folded set of towels and a robe across the counter.

The following procedure was neatly linear: deposit their belongings in a set of lockers (they had none and thus avoided the step); check their blood pressure at an inflatable cuff, in preparation for the hot water (Lilith's was, of course, inhumanly perfect, and Zelda's a little high due to her chain-smoking, and no doubt her current stress levels); go upstairs via a broad cedar staircase to the women's area, and then arrive at the change rooms, where a final series of lockers awaited to take their clothing and the larger of their towels.

Zelda took off her jacket, then began to unclasp her necklaces, when the movement of Lilith's abundant head of hair caught her attention: the Queen was gathering up the bountiful chocolatey waves, pulling them away from her severe face so that the path of her exquisite cheek bones could be followed all the way to her ears. In her teeth, she held a black hairband, and when she sensed Zelda's eyes upon her, her lips slipped into an amused little smirk, though she did not turn to meet Zelda's gaze. Rather she finished piling up her locks and bound them up high with quick movements of her hands, even as the bounty threatened to break free and cascade down.

Once her mouth was again free, Lilith turned her smile on Zelda: “Trust me, you'll want to do the same. It's terribly bad manners to leave tendrils floating about the pools.”

Zelda forced her lips together, knowing all too well that she had been staring, at the exposed curve of Lilith's neck, at the sharp angles of her face and jaw laid incredibly bare, and at the naturally high and arched eyebrows which, under the strain of the ponytail, had been lifted even further.

“Of course, my Lady... Forgive my awkwardness.”

The amusement was spread all too thickly and knowingly across Lilith's face. “Not at all. Can I perhaps lend you a hand?” So saying, she began to reach out, and Zelda startled.

“No need, thank you. I've been styling my own hair for over a hundred years. A mere topknot should be within my abilities, I should think.” Habitual terseness aside, Zelda kept her gaze demurely lowered as she bound up her hair. Even with her lids closed, she couldn't force the image of this new silhouette to leave her mind's eye. 

_Have you reverted to infancy?_ she chided herself, pulling her blonding red hair through a second knot. _The very idea, finding yourself flustered at the sight of an exposed neck and some rearranged filament. Pull yourself together, Spellman!_ Her hair was now bound tightly in a bun, pinned up with bobby pins.

“You look ready for a ballet recital,” came Lilith's purring voice, and Zelda knew she had been watched the entire time. “Swan Lake, perhaps? You'd make a charming Odette.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zelda could see that Lilith had unzipped her blue dress, and that it was falling off her shoulders. Focussing on undoing the buttons of her blouse, she cast her mind to the ballet, and the most recent time she had seen it, in Vienna. “Would that make you Von Rothbart, my Lady?”

A simpering sound came from the now topless Lilith. “Well, my name has been associated with owls, so perhaps that is fitting.”

 _It would be quite impolite to stare at your nude Queen while you yourself are clothed, Zelda Spellman_ , she continued to scold herself. _Get a move on._

And so she quickly removed the rest of her outfit and undergarments, and closed them up in the locker, being aware that Lilith had done the same. Then she took the key from the locker, which was connected to a coiled plastic bracelet that fitted easily over her wrist.

All around them, different sizes, shapes and ages of women readied themselves to bathe: young mothers with toddlers, middle aged women, retirees moving in packs, all of them casually flouting the strict code of modesty common in the more conservative mortal cultures. But unlike many a locker room in her two homelands, Zelda had to notice the lack of hum amidst them. Perhaps it would be different in the bathing areas, but within these walls, there was a contemplative hush. After a long day of dealing with headstrong young witches and warlocks, it was a soothing balm to her ears.

Catching Lilith's locker door swinging closed, she finally decided to take in the Queen's revealed form — when she discovered that she couldn't. The edges of Lilith's body seemed hazy, and Zelda's gaze slid right off as soon as she tried to focus, her vision unable to make traction on the shifting planes. Was this some glamour, perhaps a variation on a celare identitatem spell? Or perhaps it was something else entirely. She could see Lilith's face, though, clear as day, as sharp blue eyes regarded her above a playful smile, which made it clear she knew exactly was Zelda was experiencing.

“Shall we go?” she said simply, and led the way towards automatic glass doors without waiting for a reply. 

Frustrated with not being able to clearly observe the sauntering shape ahead of her, Zelda harrumphed and caught up. “You seem to know this establishment well.”

They had stepped into a large, steamy, tiled room, and ahead of them were three rows of low cubicles, with small stools before them, where women sat and soaped off their bodies, washed their hair. Lilith escorted them to an adjacent pair. 

“After a while one finds that, when it comes to layout, these places are more or less identical. It's all intuitive, you see: a path to stripping off and removing the world's filth from our shoulders, before slipping into the sacred waters.” Her mouth pulled into something between a smirk and grimace. “In my case, it might take a while.”

Zelda seated herself and picked up the shower head, pulled down the spring-loaded handle to send a rush of hot water against her bosom. She did not love the tone of Lilith's words, but there was nothing which sprang to mind to confront that, and so she set about the task of cleansing, using the complimentary soap at their disposal. Much like in the locker room, she noted, there was very little human noise, the place largely filled up by the irregular spurts of white noise from the cubicles. 

On the edge of her vision, she could isolate Lilith's sharply-defined profile, but more than that, somehow through the haze of the room, she felt as if she could see the golden crown of Hell, its gleaming skeletal fingers perched upon that dignified head. It belonged there more than anywhere else it could have sat. Upon the head of Lucifer, it was a symbol and tool of abuse, and upon Zelda's niece it was ponderously ill-fitted, but Lilith bore it as though it were weightless, as if it were the crest of a noble, long-necked bird. Yet when she turned to look directly, it was gone, replaced by the almost equally glorious crown of drawn-up chestnut hair.

As the visual difficulties continued to confound her, Zelda closed her eyes and rested her elbow against the top of her cubicle, hoping to appear casual. “Where to now, my Lady?” The epithet still sounded odd at times, her tongue instinctively wanting to shape 'Lord' and minusculely distorting her pronunciation, but she was determined to mend the habit.

Lilith smoothly led the way to the first mineral pool — the only one indoors, it would seem — and gestured to a sign. “A flavour-themed pool. They change it regularly, you see.” She lowered herself in slowly, watching the pinkish orange waters swirl around her, then tilted back her head, breathing in the scent deeply. 

Curious, Zelda stepped in, careful not to upset the water near the two old women who sat on the other side of the pool. The colours hovered around her clavicle. “Strawberries?” 

Lilith, her eyes shut in enjoyment, gave a reserved smile. “Lovely, isn't it? You can see the fruits stretching off to the horizon, if you just open up your mind to it.”

Zelda did so. And she was just beginning to reap the benefits of that imagining when Lilith broke into her reverie, with a pitch that was pointedly lower than before. As if the First Witch had been too soft with her emotions.

“Tell me... how does it proceed, the reformation of my Church? The prayers I've received have been beautiful, but to be frank, I sense some hesitation.”

Lilith had hit the nail on the head and Zelda felt personally called-out, in her convictions rather than her leadership role. What a time to feel chastised, here in the pink waters which had just begun to loosen the tension in her shoulders.

“Queen Lilith, I apologise. Any perceived lack of conviction on the coven's part is my fault alone. Pray do not doubt the belief of the congregation.”

“Ah, but a High Priestess is only as good as her little black sheep, isn't she? If they don't trust me to... deliver them from death and decay...”

“My Lady, respectfully... it has been a very trying time for them. To have worshipped the—“

“The bastard betrayer, yes, what of him?”

Lilith's barbed tone took her aback, but it was entirely fair given the life he had dragged her through.

“To have worshipped that figure for all of their lives, it has been an adjustment. They were many of them visited and tasked by him, at a young age. They felt his spectre watching over them.”

“Yes, and feared his wrath for any unknowing offence they might fall into. You yourself must be painfully familiar with the dread he inspired when you contemplated the possibility of displeasing him.”

It was difficult to continue with these needle-like interruptions, and Zelda found herself overwhelmed by memories, stirred up by Lilith's aggressive prodding. One in particular, on the eve of her wedding to the coven's other great betrayer. She frowned deeply, the corners of her lips pulling down, as she stared silently into the middle distance of the water.

She could still remember it acutely, the sensation of that hulking figure, approaching her from behind. The scent of musk and brimstone rolling off that grotesque body, which was mangled by hatred and cruelty. The rasping sound of breaths being pulled down that monstrous throat, and through the gaping, toothy maw in his chest. The knowledge that, at any moment, he could be upon her. Using her as he wished. And it was something she bowed her head to, as a solemn member of the Church of Night, as a follower of the Dark Lord. As a daughter of Satan.

She had known, of course, that she might be forever scarred by the infernal union, both shattered of mind and mutilated of body. Such was the role of a bride, if she wished to retain his favour; she could only be given to a man, if the best of her could be first gripped and consumed by the source of their magicks. But it had not been in her best interests to think too hard on that point: 'His will dictates our actions, and what is, is what must be.’

The ever-present potentiality of scarring, in each agonizing manner available, was an iron collar around the necks of the coven. Its ubiquity allowed them to believe that the background noise of distant terror was a normal part of life, and that they were happy, untroubled and free. With their every 'Praise Satan!', they acknowledged that iron grip and expressed gratitude. Because what else were they, the 'little black sheep', to do?

But it was different now. And that, she realised, was the problem.

“They're confused, because... you don't threaten them.”

She found that Lilith too had been staring contemplatively into the swirling colours, her face set in the habitual neutral that Zelda could now easily recognise as a mask for her emotions. Heavily hooded eyes rolled up to meet hers, blue centres darkened.

“What?”

“The flock, my Lady. They're so used to the Sword of Damocles lingering above them, that your apparent disinterest makes them wary.”

“My disinterest?” Arched brows were arching further.

“In testing them, in threatening their bodies and souls. The rules that they — that we were so used to, we've lost our certainty around which still apply.”

Dull humour creased the skin around Lilith's eyes. “So you're saying I need to hurt them, these cowering children, in order to have them trust me?”

Zelda knew she was being glib, but the question still needed answering. “I'm sorry, I... don't know. I do not believe I am sufficiently equipped to be giving advice. To the Queen of Hell.” For all her usual bravado within the walls of the Spellman Mortuary, Zelda did not truly think as highly of herself as her family might assume.

Lilith pressed her lips together, and when it seemed that she would finally say something, she merely stood, her shape still frustratingly unclear to Zelda, and stepped out of the pool. A set of glass doors separated them from the outside patio baths, and Zelda barely made it through the first before Lilith had stepped outside. Catching up, the cold air hit Zelda's body from every angle, choking the pink glow from the strawberry bath out of existence.

There were a range of pools outside, under the crisp blue sky, joined by sections of large paved stone, and raised wooden deck. Each bath had a temperature gauge mounted on the wall, sometimes with a description of the water's attributes. Lilith had chosen a pool with a temperature just higher than the strawberry pool, this one with the additional note of being a 'fizzy' pool. There were five others in the bath, all grey old ladies, chatting cheerfully amongst themselves and showing no awareness of the Queen of Hell that had just slipped into their midst.

As Zelda found her way into the water, carefully holding onto the bar as she reclined, Lilith turned to her with eyes that were unexpectedly repentant. “Never you mind my probing. As long as I've worked for this position, despite picturing the ins and outs of it for centuries, there is still a period of emotional adjustment to be overcome.”

Zelda nodded her terse understanding. “No doubt it will become easier very soon. But, to some small degree, I can empathise. Even if the eyes upon me are a trifling number in comparison.”

Lilith gave a tight smile. “Suffering isn't something we can measure on a chart, Zelda Spellman. It's personal. You and I may have been alive for very different lengths of time, but your pain is just as valid as mine.”

Those words were almost tender, and Zelda closed her eyes to prevent herself showing an improper reaction to them. In the sudden darkness, she became aware of how the water fizzed around her skin, always at the final stage of an antacid's dissolution in a glass. It was as if thousands of microscopic fish nipped at her skin, removing the impurities, puffing up its youthfulness. The heat was just right, and the rising steam left her face feeling rejuvenated. While still blind, she found the bath's edge and turned to rest with her head on folded arms, upon the carved cedar. 

Her ears sought substance, beyond the hum of the pumps, and settled on the elderly voices nearby. She was weary and her Japanese was rusty, but she could still follow. The women chatted along with the relaxed certainty that they would not be understood by the foreigners, picking up each other's sentences just as they were about to end. They spoke of Zelda's red hair and her snowy complexion, wondered whether the colour was real, about how one of their grandsons had bleached his hair that colour and the school was giving her daughter a lot of uphill about it. 

Then, as if more for content than the expectation of being overheard, they lowered their voices. “ _Kijo?_ ” they postulated, and Zelda opened her eyes to look upon Lilith, who sat up nobly, gazing impassively at the air around the grandmothers.

_Kijo... sou da ne... zettai ni, nee..._

The discussion around Lilith's supernatural pedigree did not seem to be fearful, as Zelda would have expected, but rather intrigued. It seemed these women had a comfortable relationship with the spiritual realm, such that the idea of running into a demon woman (and her handmaiden) at a mountain onsen seemed quite rational, and a touch exciting.

“They can tell,” she told Lilith, under her breath.

“Of course they can,” the Queen said, with audible amusement. “They'll be having the same trouble you are, when they try to look straight at me. And even if they weren't,” her small smile grew, “you must admit we make a bewitching pair.”

Zelda allowed herself to smile along. “Yes, I suppose we do at that.”

With the same abruptness as before, Lilith stood, taking clarity with her, and Zelda followed, keeping an ear on the women who, as soon as her back was turned, started giggling amongst themselves. Even though she knew it to be innocent fun, she never did like the sound of tittering at her expense, it reminded her far too much of certain indignities she had endured in public places. Even if every person who had ever laughed at her could be put to death, their spectres were immortal tenants.

Lilith had gotten away from her, and had already lowered herself into a very different pool: this one was fashioned to resemble a natural spring out in the wilds, round and ringed by varying sizes of rock, as well as bushels of bamboo. The Queen had found the perfectly shaped rock upon which to rest her shoulders and neck, tipping her jaw to the sky and making Zelda wish it were already night. She took hold of the guard rail and stepped down, only once she had immersed half her body realising how much hotter than the fizzy bath this one was. She was struck by thirst, felt sweat break out across her brow, but dismissed her body's silliness and crawled over to Lilith.

“I admit, I was sceptical of this idea, My Lady. Leaving at such an hour, only to lose the night entirely. Such youthful spontaneity,” she chuckled. “But thank you. I'm... honestly very grateful for all the thought you evidently put into this excursion. For the concern you've shown me.” 

Lilith's eyes slowly swum open and she blinked. “Ah, you made it at last. I thought perhaps you'd gotten lost within the last ten feet.”

Zelda frowned, feeling quite foolish. “You didn't hear me?”

Lilith tilted her head, her eyes indicating confusion, but the ruse quickly evaporated when her mouth tripped up into a smirk. “You'll have to pardon my terrible sense of humour. When you spend as much time alone as I do, toying with people when they're actually there is irresistible.” 

Zelda allowed Lilith the prize of her embarrassment, smiled into the steaming waters. “That's quite all right. For whatever reason, I... well, I don't mind it as much, when it comes from you.” She felt her face reddening, and thought that it might be the result of the fascinating look Lilith was sending her way. But no. Her thoughts had become foggy and a throbbing was gradually increasing in her ears. Not even Lilith's striking beauty could cause this sort of anatomical discombobulation.

Lilith was talking again, but from Zelda's perspective she'd gone mute, replaced by a steadily loudening whine of tinnitus. 

“Pardon me, My Lady, but,” her tongue struggled to form the words, felt thick and lazy in her mouth. “If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll,,,” 

_I'll just go find some cool water. My apologies, I shan't be long. Please pardon my body's histrionics._

But none of that made it out of her lips. Standing, she had to keep her head down against vertigo, bent over as her feet made contact with the cold ground outside the pool. 

_How humiliating... everybody must be staring. Pull yourself together, woman, this is no way for a Spellman to behave._

Regrettably, the internal chastisement was doing nothing to steady her head. She had lurched her way to the door leading to the strawberry pool, and very much needed to go down to her knees, but her dignity forbade it.

The air around her body was cool, so why had she not shaken free of this blasted ailment? Or at least that had been the case, but once through the doors, she felt rolling humid air climb down into her lungs and fought back nausea. Up ahead she could make out a filled wooden barrel with matching wooden scoop, and stumbled over to it gratefully, the iciness of the water singing out to her. But then her heart sank, as she read “Do not drink” written on a tag stuck to the scoop.

She moaned in defeat, as she felt herself fainting...

...but she did not hit the floor. Rather, she had fallen into the arms of a soft but very strong saviour, who then draped one arm under Zelda's arm, held the two of them firmly together at the waist. Humiliated but too queasy to fight, she allowed her panting traitor of a head to rest against the bosom of her Queen. 

“My dear, I only wanted to warm your bones, not melt you off of them.” The sardonic touch to Lilith's tone was far outweighed by legitimate concern, and Zelda mouthed a deeply-felt apology. 

In the middle distance, she heard an older woman ask Lilith if she needed help, who answered fluently that a glass of cold water would be appreciated. In the meantime, she got Zelda down onto one of the shower stools and smoothed away the stray red hairs which stuck to her face. Being closer to the ground helped, and the plastic cup of water, when it came, brought Zelda back to her faculties. She started to apologise again, but Lilith held up two fingers to call for silence, a gently scolding look on her face.

“On my oath, as a witch and as your queen, Zelda Spellman. If you shape that pretty mouth of yours into one more apology, I'm going to drop it and you right back into the spring. And how will you lead my Church then?”

Chastised but touched, Zelda obediently held a finger over her sealed lips.

“About time,” breathed Lilith. “Now. Let's get you some fresh air.”

The onsen's attached restaurant was an immense tatami room, all the tables being traditionally small and low to the ground, and the seating being hard, flat cushions. Lilith sat cross-legged, a twinkle in her eye as she silently watched the revived Spellman matriarch struggling with her chopsticks.

“I'm fairly certain I saw a full set of cutlery back at the serving station, why don't I meander over there and—“

“No!” Zelda snapped, then checked herself, lowered the bowl of soba with a slow breath. “Pardon me. But no. I've committed to this, and I shan't eat until I've become fully _au fait_ with these damnable things.”

Lilith rested her jaw in her palm, allowed herself an amused smile. “I'm surprised a woman of the world such as yourself has never mastered hasshi.”

“Yes, well we all have our dirty secrets, don't we?” She sighed, hearing and disliking the continued irritability in her voice. “I've really not been the best of company today, have I?”

“Look at the colours,” came Lilith's purring reply, and Zelda looked up with a perplexed frown at the _non sequitar_.

“What on Earth do you mean?” 

And then she saw it: the colours of the sky, the sunset over Mount Takao, oranges and yellows refracted through icy air. And it filled her with warmth.

“Praise Lilith, it's beautiful...”

It had rolled so naturally off her tongue, like the easiest thing in the world. And when she looked over at she whom had been praised, Zelda saw that the First Witch's countenance was glowing with pleasure, her eyes closed as though enjoying the most marvellous medley of flavours in her mouth.

Zelda's chest tightened. 

_Beautiful._

Lilith sat in the moment a little longer, before slowly opening her eyes and reaching across the table to take Zelda's bowl, chopsticks included. Before Zelda could get out any sort of protest, the queen had adroitly spun food into place between the sticks and was beckoning her forward.

“Worship within the Church of Lilith must happen as part of a reciprocal relationship, my dear High Priestess. And as you have opened your heart to praise me, the very least I can do is save you from imminent starvation.”

And when Zelda gazed into those pale blue eyes which were brimming with gratitude, she somehow knew that her spirit would never be hungry again.


End file.
